Awakening
The days of summer were growing steadily shorter as autumn and winter made a slow approach to the kingdom of Feawen. Sunset came earlier in the evening with each passing day, and after a good summer, the fields all around the kingdom were about ready for harvesting. The farmers, their families and the hired help were preparing for the weeks of demanding work of harvesting the crops and getting them indoors before the frost could claim them instead.
Matthias is the name of a young man living just outside the small town of Griven, on the far western edge of the kingdom. After the death of his father when he was only a few winters of age, he lived alone with his mother on their small farm. His father fought in the last war between the kingdom of Feawen and one of its neighbors 15 years past and died in the last battle that secured them their victory and the beginning of years of peace.
This year will be Matthias' first one alone after the passing of his mother the previous winter. He knows better than most other just how important it is to get the harvesting done in time and not lose anything to the frost. The last winter came faster than anyone predicted with a severe storm that destroyed large portions of that year's crops making the grounds for a lean winter for the entire village and nobody wishes to experience the same thing again.
Matthias did his best to provide food for both himself and his mother by spending the winter months hunting, but he had little luck in his endeavors. Most of the animals left their normal ground in favor of places further south where they could find more food and the hunters often needed to travel for days just to find tracks, and further still for actual game.
His mother feared they would not have enough food to last them through the cold season, so when she fell ill in the coldest week of winter, she took her own life in the middle of the night when nobody could stop her, hoping that with one person less to feed, her son would make it until summer. Then spring came, and Matthias was still alive. He was leaner than before winter but stills strong and determined to keep going despite his loss.
The entire village and most parts of the kingdom suffered during the last winter. The villagers all did the best they could to help each other, but most of them found it difficult enough to feed their own families, and so, many people perished in the cold and darkness of the long cold season.
If rumors were to be trusted, the only place in the kingdom that did not suffer was the capitol. The winter did not seem to hit them as hard as everywhere else, blessing them with milder temperatures and there was more than enough food for the citizens. People from the smaller villages traveled to the capitol in hope of buying supplies, but they could barely afford to buy enough to help them at all, making many a family go hungry for weeks.
In the capitol, every trader is under strict control by the kings' orders and he decides the prices for every shopkeeper to follow. The farmers around the capitol give a large portion of their crops to the crown to feed the kings army, and the rest of the crops tend to sell for far higher prices than in the rest of the kingdom to make up for the lost income. Other traders that do not deal in food pay high taxes from their profits to help the royal treasury pay for the soldiers' salaries, but their earnings still surpassed that of farmers.
The system purely designed for the benefit of supporting an army and not for the citizen's best. Winters as bad as the last one, forced people to pay the traders in the city whatever price they demanded if they wanted food to survive the winter even if it left them with no coin for other necessities. The rich became richer, the poor became poorer, and the king could not care less, so long as his armies were fed and supplied, letting the system continue.
The last big war was 15 years past, and the kingdom kept peace since then. Then, two years ago, rumors began spreading throughout the kingdom of a neighboring kingdom building an army against them and the king took immediate precautions. Over the course of a year, he doubled the size of his army and to finance it, he raised the taxes and prices of various goods more than ever before. Most of the villagers from the smaller towns on the farther edges of Feawen were poor before the taxes rose and then, when the winter took most of their crops, they struggled worse than ever.
The king did not carry any concern for the welfare of his people; he only cared for power and the ability to strike down the neighboring kingdoms if any of them threatened to start a war against him ever again and so continued to ignore the plight of his subjects.
In Griven, it is the day for the final large market before the first estimated snowfall of the year and the day when most people buy most of their last supplies before winter. Matthias only owns a small patch of land that was barely enough to provide him and his mother with food for the winters and alone it should be enough to keep him fed well until the first spring crops arrive. However, with the king preparing for a war that might never come, he knows the yearly tax collectors will demand he give up a large portion of his harvest to the crown and it will make for another lean winter with scarce supplies.
Matthias makes his way to the marketplace with a bundle of pelts he acquired over summer by hunting slung over his shoulder, hoping they will sell. He certainly needs the extra income they could provide, especially with the latest increase in taxes.
However, before he even reaches the town square, something seems wrong. He can hear loud shouting coming from the market, and it is not the usual cries of the shopkeepers announcing their prices to attract customers, but rather loud and demanding along with others more panicked and desperate.
Thinking for himself that it can be nothing good, Matthias decides to stay clear of trouble and avoid the main roads into town. Instead, he follows one of the narrower streets that zigzag between the houses towards the market where people are less likely to see him, but where he might be able to find out what or who is causing the ruckus in the square, curiosity getting the better of him.
Reaching the line of houses located closest to the square, Matthias puts down the furs on the ground and presses his back against one of the walls and inches close to the edge so he can peek around the corner and remain hidden. He has a clear view of the market, or rather what was supposed to be one. Now it is just a pure disaster area. Several stands lie knocked over and broken, their goods spread out all over the ground and destroyed.
The streets are crawling with men in armor, all decorated with the royal crest and Matthias realizes they must be the king's own men and likely the cause of all the chaos. There is about 30 or 40 of them in not more, and several of them are busy shouting at one of the traders. Without warning, one of them grabs the man's coat, throws him to the ground and start kicking him. Just moment later, the others join in, not stopping even when the man begs for mercy.
Matthias must bite down on his own lip to keep back a shout of protest when nobody else shows any signs of stopping the soldiers. His heart almost seem to stop when he hears someone sharply call his name; terrified that the soldiers has discovered him and will drag him out into the square with the others. He throws his entire body flat against the wall once more to make sure he is out of view and then relief washes over him as he realizes who called for him. A back door from one of the houses are open and a wrinkly old man is urgently signaling for him to step inside the house.
He his no stranger to Matthias. His name is Sigurd, and most people in town know him well. He is thin and frail these days, but he still carries an aura of authority that people rarely challenge. People mostly know him for his kindness, and when Mathias lost his father as a child, Sigurd was the one that made sure that he and his mothers had everything they needed to get by in the difficult times, be it food or clothing. He waives his hand stronger, urging Matthias to move faster when he hesitates a bit too long.
Matthias almost run over to the door then, but is careful to keep his steps light, years of instinct from hunting kicking in. "What is going on?" he asks in a cautious whisper as he quietly inches the door to the alleyway closed behind him, worried that anyone outside might hear them and come searching.
Sigurd does not reply immediately and leads Matthias silently to the other side of the house where the windows have a view to the town square. He pulls aside a corner of the curtains and waive Matthias over so they can both look outside through the narrow gap in the fabric. "I assume you can see that those are the king's men out there?" Sigurd whispers darkly and the wrinkles on his forehead deepen as he glares out the window.
Matthias swallows nervously as he nods slowly and gazes out the window for himself. To his horror, he sees that the guards have moved on from tipping over stands to breaking down doors just a few houses down from Sigurd's home and are dragging people out in the square to join the traders and marketgoers. "But what doo they want?" he asks, and realizes his voice sounds thin from fear even to his own ears.
"We have all heard the rumors of war brewing and how the king has ordered us all to pay higher taxes to fund it," Sigurd hisses and breathes sharply though his nose in anger. He tugs the curtains shut just in front of Matthias, so they no longer see their town torn to pieces by guards that were supposed to protect them. "Apparently the king doesn't seem to think that is enough, and now he sent soldiers around his own kingdom to acquire what he seems to think are the necessary resources and does not care how they obtain it."
Then, heavy footsteps just outside the front door interrupt their conversation, followed by and insistent knocking. Matthias tenses in his chair, but Sigurd looks strangely unfazed as he curses quietly under his breath. "They are going house to house," he whispers. "You better get out of here boy, take the back door, and run back to your farm and stay indoors. You had better pray the soldiers get everything they want here in the village and won't bother with the houses further out. Warn anyone you meet on the way to stay away."
"But what about you?" Matthias protests weakly, even as the old man pulls him up from his seat to push him towards the back door. The knocking on the front one gets more insistent, and they can hear the loud command from a soldier to open immediately or face the consequences.
"I will be fine" Sigurd gives him a weak, but reassuring smile. "Just get out of here and somewhere safe."
Matthias sneaks out the back door and shuts it behind himself as quiet as possible, but with a dreadful feeling in his gut. What he did not expect is to stand face to face with three soldiers, forming a half-circle around him with swords pointed in his direction and closing off his escape. Behind him, hear can hear the loud crash as the front door breaks down and several raised voices yelling commands and Sigurd's shout of protest.
"Well, well, well" the soldier in front of Matthias says mockingly as he steps forward with his sword raised and lets the sharp edge rest at Matthias' throat, so it threatens to bite through skin at the slightest movement. "Trying to escape, are we? Well, I think not, you are coming with us boy."
"What are you talking about?" Matthias tries asking, but the soldier ignores him completely. Two of them sheathe their swords and steps up on either side of him to grab hold of one of Matthias' arms each so they can haul him out of the alley and out to the market square.
While they drag him along the road, he can see more soldiers hauling Sigurd from his house through the broken front door. He has a line of blood running down his face from a cut on his forehead. Their gaze lock, and Matthias can see the sorrow in the old man's eyes.
The soldiers drag Sigurd out in the middle of the square where there is a small height, standing just a little taller that the otherwise flattened area that makes up the marketplace. It is an excellent place for making any kind of announcement for the public, and that seems to be exactly what the guards have in mind. They drag both Matthias and Sigurd to this small height, in view of everyone who is present, which seems to be most of the village by now.
"Gather around everyone!" one of the soldiers shouts and step up on the height. His suit of armor is different from everybody else's, the symbols much more detailed and the cloak around his shoulder made of finer fabric, singling him out as the leader.
Most of the crowd looks like they would rather be anywhere else, and Matthias cannot blame them as he is of the same opinion. The soldiers have blocked off every exit, making it impossible for anyone to sneak their way out without guards at the ready to force them back. The guards shoves Matthias and Sigurd to stand in front of the commander, facing the audience and the guards let them go after commenting idly that escape is futile.
Matthias stares out over the crowd. Most of them are terrified. Several of the women are keeping their faces down, avoiding looking directly at the leader. Some of the men are angry, gritting their teeth and clenching their fists by their sides, but none of them reacts.
"I am very disappointed in all of you," The commander shouts, sounding much like a parent scolding their child or in this case a whole village. "Just now we caught this old man trying to escape our men through the back door of his house rather than face us. All we wanted was to ask kindly for what belongs to the King." He steps up, grabs a hold of Sigurd, and pulls him further up on the small height, seemingly to make a point. "We come to this village on by the king's order to gather supplies for the army so that we can protect the entire kingdom of Feawen, including you lot from danger. Then you treat us like this, with disrespect and hostility, refusing to give us our rightful share."
"That is a lie!" Sigurd yells out, and some in the audience gasp at how he dares speak up. "You are not just taking you fair share; you are taking everything we have, leaving us to starve come winter. How dare you even say you are protecting people of the kingdom, when you are the ones killing us?"
Only a few people in the crowd dares to shout out agreement at the comment and the soldiers quickly fire back angry commands for all of them to shut up. One of the soldiers steps up to Sigurd and grabs his arms to restrain him again.
The commander angrily draws a longsword from the sheath resting at his hip and aims it threateningly at Sigurd who has no place to run, held back as he is. The crowd is quickly changes its rebellious tune, yelling out in protest, and begging them to spare an old man for mercy's sake.
"Defying us, the king's soldiers, is the same as defying the king himself," the commander snarls above the crowd. "That crime is punishable by death!" He lifts the sword above his head, ready to strike.
That is when Matthias is unable to hold back any longer. "No!" he screams in panic at the top of his lungs, and the entire crowds seems to turn their attention to him instead. The soldiers that were supposed to guard him are distracted enough that Matthias has free room to leap towards the commander. There is a branch on the ground, and he picks it up, swinging it as a weapon, hitting the commander's wrist so he cries out in pain and drops the blade with a dull clatter.
An almost deafening silence ensues, once so deep that if a coin were to fall, everyone present would have heard it. They are all staring at Matthias who is still clutching on to the branch used to attack and disarm one of the king's soldiers.
"You little shit!" The commander hisses furiously through gritted teeth. "You are going to regret doing that! I'll make sure of it."
Matthias panics, suddenly realizing what he has just done and backs away from the enraged commander, not daring to keep his eyes off him, feeling much like a wild animal backed into a corner, his mind desperately working to find a way out, yet seeing none.
"Matthias, no!" Sigurd cries, his voice sounding chocked as if he is struggling to keep back a flood of emotion. He is struggling against the soldier's hold but does not have the strength to break free.
The other soldiers are moving in closer and drawing their weapons as well, surrounding Matthias and making sure he has no way to flee. The commander gives them a signal to wait and picks up his sword from the ground, glaring angrily at Matthias the entire time.
"You want to act rebellious, huh? The commander hisses, his eyes glinting in malicious intent. "Consider this your fault." He once again lifts his sword, and without hesitating this time, he drives it through Sigurd's stomach in one smooth movement.
Sigurd lets out a small gasp of surprise and stares down at the blood that is rapidly soaking his clothes in red, and then looks at the handle of the sword as if he cannot understand where the rest of the weapon is.
The commander draws his sword back out and Sigurd crumples to the ground with a quiet gasp and does not move again.
Matthias screams out in heartbreak and fury, he leaps forward, but halts in his tracks when the commander aims the still blood-dripping swords at him, grinning cruelly. He holds the branch ahead of himself in defense, his only available weapon, determined not to give up easily.
His opponent in return aims him with a sharply honed steel blade, along with the skill of a trained combatant and a confident attitude to go along with it. Both waiting to see what the other will do.
Around the, more and more people gather the courage to yell out protests and soon the whole crowd screams in rage at the soldiers who suddenly have a fight on their hand keeping the crowd under control and none of them is careful about how they go forth doing it. One of them whacks a man over the head with the butt end of an axe so he keels over, clutching a bleeding forehead, and another kick out the legs under an older woman sending her crashing into the crowd.
For Matthias, time seems to slow down, and he can practically feel his heartbeat as if it is trying its damned to fight its way out of his chest as everything turns to chaos around him. He is never going stand up against a skilled swordsman and he dreads the death he will likely face in just a moment when the commander grows tired of waiting. He quickly lets his gaze roam around the marketplace where the situation is turning more disastrous with each passing second.
He can see a terrified woman holding on to her small child, trying to protect it from the masses around her. Her husband most likely, steps up in front to shield her as well but the crowd surges around them as people elbow their way forth, not caring who they push out of the way, many of them rushing for the gaps between the soldiers and escape the market.
Amongst the chaos, there is one person that stands out from all the others. He stands completely still between the raging crowd and seems completely unaffected by the whole affair. It is a young man, and a stunningly beautiful at that, elegantly dressed and with light blonde hair dancing around his face. Matthias cannot remember seeing him around the village, he is sure he would have remembered someone like that, but what really draws his attention is the dark, blue eyes that seem to stare right through him. It is like staring into a well and being unable to see the bottom and then jolt awake to realize one is hanging on the rails about to fall in.
Matthias locks gaze with the stranger, the whole world seems to stop completely until the man shifts his gaze, and Matthias' attention snaps back to the presence and realizes the commander is about to strike him with his sword, finally tired of waiting.
Matthias, distracted as he is, barely manages to step aside to avoid the blade, which strikes the ground right by his feet instead as the commander aims wide, taking his target an easy one.
The commander snarls at him and swings again, but Matthias is paying attention now, and launching and attack of his own.
He swings the branch over his head and strikes the commander with all his strength, earning a groan of pain from his opponent, but little else. The blunt weapon useless to cause any real damage and the commander barely staggers.
Matthias wishes the branch were a little heavier in his hands as he watches how the soldier grow red in the face from anger at having a mere farmer humiliating him in front of all his men and the entire village. He will never win without a proper weapon.
Then Matthias hear someone in the crowd yelling out his name, barely noticeable over the noise of the crowd. The voice is gruff and familiar to him, and he realizes it belongs to a close friend and the smith's apprentice, Berwald. Just after noticing the yell, Matthias can see the man himself plowing his way through the crowd, taller and broader than most he manages to make his forward with a large sword in one of his hands.
Matthias dodges yet another furious attack from the commander before Berwald reaches to the line of soldiers that is fighting to push back the crowd.
"Catch!" Berwald yells and throws the blade over the guards' heads.
It lands a few meters away from Matthias who throws himself out of the way from the commander to grab for the blade's handle.
"They have weapons!" the commander shouts, his eyes wild with anger and hair glued to his forehead with sweat. ""Bring them down! They have to die!"
There is the sharp sound of metal as the soldiers almost simultaneously draws their swords and true panic spreads among the villagers now that there are deadly weapons involved. People scream and launch themselves at the soldiers, not willing to let themselves stand by and let the soldiers kill them without a fight, knowing that the soldiers no longer cares about keeping any of them alive.
The men that formed a circle around Matthias and the commander turns their attention more towards the crowd that seems to grow into a much larger threat than just the one farmer atop the hill, even though that farmer just got hold of a weapon.
Matthias flings the branch at the commander to distract him as he grasps for the sword instead.
It feels wrong in his hands, unfamiliar and heavy, but much better than a branch and far more dangerous. There is no time to get used to the new weapon and he charges at the commander who is still trying to regain his balance and stabs him dead in the chest with all his strength.
He fights back a wave of nausea as he hears bone break and the sickening sound of metal cutting its way through skin and muscle. The commander falls over with a chocked gurgle and Matthias still clutching on to the handle as if his life depends on it, falls along with the commander and drives the sword in even further.
He is on the verge of hyperventilating. He has killed animals several times, but he never even thought he would ever have to take a human life, but now the sight of dead eyes will haunt his memories forever.
"Matthias watch out!" Somebody shouts and Matthias whirls around on instinct, pulling the blade with him and raises it just in time to block an incoming blow. He kicks out and hits his opponent in the leg, sending the man crashing to the ground.
He lets out a roar of anger as he staggers up in in a crouch and slices the fallen man's throat. He feels droplets of blood splatter across his face and has to fight back another wave of nausea as he sees the blood soak up in the dirt around them. He stands up fully and takes in the situation evolving around him as well as he can and not let any more guards catch him by surprise.
The little market square has turned into a sight belonging only in a nightmare.
It seems that while he was fighting the commander, the rest of the village took down most of the other soldiers. It turns out that a group of well-trained soldiers stands little chance against close to 200 desperate villagers fighting for their lives. He can hear dying screams of a few survivors echo across the square, sending shivers down his back.
He can see the local butcher wielding a small, but deadly knife. The village smith must have collected weapons from his forge, same as his apprentice, Berwald and there are a group of villagers armed with simple axes, pitchforks, and hammers. A few others carry swords, most likely stolen from the fallen soldiers and they are all fighting off the last few soldiers.
Then Matthias notices the other stranger again and freezes. He looks even more out of place than before; his fine clothing looks nothing like what anyone around the village would ever wear and he does not even seem to notice the surrounding chaos. Matthias finds he cannot stop staring. The stranger gives Matthias an almost curious look and tilts his head slightly as if in though and there is a strange smile curled around his lips as he turns around and weaves his way easily between the villagers and away from the small hill, about to disappear in the crowd.
Matthias is about to follow him, almost desperately wanting to ask who he is, but then he sees a shadow at the corner of his eyes and whirls around on instinct, lifting the blade threateningly as he growl in warning at the new arrival, and all thought of the stranger escapes him.
"It's okay Matthias," the new arrival says calmly and holds his hands up, palms empty and unthreatening. "It's me, Torleif. The soldiers are dead now, it's safe, you can out the blade down."
Matthias blinks rapidly as his mind struggles to catch up, and slowly he recognizes the man before him as Torleif, one of the most respected men in Griven. He was one of the few to return after fighting in the last war and considered a hero among the villagers. His hair is dark, but heavily streaked with grey, as his beard and there is a small scar at the corner of his jaw, but his eyes are kind. Matthias lowers his weapon, horrified at how he almost attacked one of his own and the sword almost slips from his lax fingers.
Torleif gives him a crocked and sympathetic smile. "It is always hard taking another man's life, and the first one is always the worst. Trust me, I know." He puts a heavy palm on Matthias' shoulder in a show of support.
Matthias only stands there breathing harshly through his nose, nodding weakly and fighting back the urge to vomit.
There is so much blood in the square and dead soldiers lying spread around in a horrible display.
In the following quiet, reality seems to settle over the villagers as they realize what they have done. The relief over winning the battle with their lives intact fades as horror washes over them instead.
"Dear gods" one of the women cries out over the quiet. "What have we done? The king will have us all murdered for this."
"The king was slowly killing us already, before all this!" Torleif roars back. "Sigurd was right. We can't let the king take all our supplies just so he can fuel his armies."
"But what are we supposed to do now?" another one yells. ". "When the king finds out we killed his soldiers he will surely send an entire army to make an example of us to any other village that threatens to revolt against him."
"We have to fight!" Matthias says, surprised over how loud and firm his voice sounds. His fingers curl firmly around the handle of the blade by his side and there is not a single person that does not turn their eyes to him. "We have to stand up for ourselves and show the king that he cannot break us down. We have to prove to the other villages that if we work together, we can bring down the king and stop living in fear of soldiers that are supposed to be keeping us safe!"
The villagers all stares at him in shock, a few in fear, but he can see a few glimpses of determination and that resolve seem to spread quickly among them.
Torleif pats him on the back with a heavy hand and Matthias sees him grin widely in confidence. "Well said, my boy! We will no longer cower in fear but fight for what is right. To war!" Torleif roars as he raises his other fist up in the air. "For our freedom!"
"For freedom!" a few determined villager roars back and quickly the call echoes across the square.
"Freedom!"